


𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑦

by Adrenalineshots, sonshineandshowers, TheFibreWitch



Series: Domino 🁡 [13]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Case Fic, Child Bright, Digital Art, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hallucinations, Harassment, Health Emergency, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mental Health Issues, Metafiction, Murder Mystery, Nightmares, Surrealism, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator, Video, a lot of really strange stuff that happens in altered states of consciousness, anxiousness, reader-driven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26503483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrenalineshots/pseuds/Adrenalineshots, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFibreWitch/pseuds/TheFibreWitch
Summary: Selecting 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑦 from the bookshelf, Malcolm travels through his own mind.Read this story at:https://www.thedominostory.com/#the-lotteryThis book is one part of the Domino series. If you have not yet read thePrefaceorIntroduction, please head there first.
Series: Domino 🁡 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926451
Kudos: 2
Collections: Domino 🁡, Prodigal Son Big Bang 2020 - Saturday Posts





	𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑦

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jameena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/gifts), [MissScorp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/gifts), [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Lottery](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/685318) by Shirley Jackson. 



> This book is one part of the Domino series. If you have not yet read the [Preface](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64577434#workskin) or [Introduction](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588537#workskin), please head there first.
> 
> Betaed by the wonderful [Jameena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/), [MissScorp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/), and [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/).
> 
> Credit to the creators and their works that inspired and were referenced in this work:  
>  **— Inspiration:**[The Lottery](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shirley_Jackson) \- Shirley Jackson  
>  **— Cover Song:**[One Tin Solider](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTBx-hHf4BE) \- The Original Caste

[](https://www.thedominostory.com/images/full/the-lottery.jpg) |   
---|---  
  
When they took Malcolm’s father away, he knew his life would be forever changed. The memory of flashing lights clung to his eyelids as he tried to move forward from the event.

Things weren’t so different at first – most days carried on as normal. His mother was sure of that. The one difference, however, was that she hardly slept anymore, and her cheeks seemed to be perpetually stained with tears.

He had never seen her like that before.

Then one day at breakfast, she strode in with a mug of coffee that wasn’t coffee and announced that she had been invited to a gala and Malcolm was to accompany her.

“Don’t worry, darling, there will be other children there,” she reassured him. The smile on her face made him smile in turn; it had been a long time since he had last seen that brightness.

It was in the summer. June. The gala loomed over them like some sort of saving grace.

He felt excited. He rarely attended social events. Without his father around – he shook the thought from his head. It was his time to go out and enjoy the glamor and luxury. Butterflies danced in his stomach.

On the evening of the event, his mother sent Luisa to help him get ready. He was gifted a new suit just for the occasion. His mother soon appeared in his doorway wearing a deep blue gown. She looked radiant.

“Come along, we don’t want to be late.”

* * *

Malcolm peeked out of the window as they arrived at the venue.

Beautiful men and women wandered around bathed in the lights and splendor.

His mother leaned over and gave him a kiss on the temple.

“My little man,” she beamed at him, clearly happy to be surrounded again by her peers.

She took hold of his hand as they exited their ride and plunged into the noise and excitement of the night.

He felt good, like nothing could hurt him. He was glowing.

He felt so good in fact that he didn’t hear the whispers.

 _“Whitly_.”

The name was spat out like a curse.

_“What is she doing here?”_

_“She has some nerve.”_

Though these words were swallowed by the noise around him, Malcolm felt his mother’s grip tighten on his hand. He looked up at her and saw her face was tight, pained. A mask. Then he noticed the other children. He waved a little when they drew nearer. The group just stared at him and whispered in each other’s ears.

The ballroom was decorated exquisitely, crystal glittered in the light cast by the tall windows that overlooked the city below.

It was amazing. At each table sat a small vase with decorative rocks; the vases held beautiful flowers and small foliage. It looked magical.

His mother released his hand when they found their seats.

“Go play, dear,” she whispered, her masked expression still in place. “Have fun.”

And so Malcolm went.

* * *

“I heard he’d take his scalpel and slice you open so slowly, you would be able to watch him eat your heart!”

A gasp rang out amongst the children.

“Well, my mother says he’d invite you in for tea, lock you away in his basement, and you would never be seen again.”

“My father said the whole family was in on it, and he was even training his kids –”

The children fell silent as Malcolm approached.

“Hi, I’m Malcolm,” he said timidly.

“We know who _you_ are,” one kid snapped at him.

Malcolm flinched slightly at the verbal punch. But he carried on, just like his mother said to. “So, what do you guys do for fun at these boring adult parties?” he tried again.

“Well, I brought my sketch book,” one girl in a frilly pink dress chirped. The older kids shot her a glance.

“We do _normal_ things,” another boy sneered.

“I – I like normal things,” Malcolm replied, slightly confused.

“Oh yeah? Since when is _murder_ a normal thing?” a girl hissed.

Malcolm felt like she had punched him in the gut.

“Shh! They’re starting the drawing soon,” another kid shushed the group that had ganged up on Malcolm.

The group of children turned their attention to the stage at the front of the ballroom.

A couple of well-dressed people stood around a black box that sat atop a pedestal.

“Ladies, gentlemen, we want to thank you for coming out to the annual drawing!” the man who stood near the box announced. A smattering of applause peppered the air. The man continued his speech about how important the event was, and though Malcolm began to tune him out, he could feel the excitement in the air. The drawing was something he often overheard his mother talk about year after year. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was for, but it seemed like a pretty big deal.

The other children soon became restless as they, too, stopped paying attention to the adults speaking on stage.

“So, is it true?” someone asked Malcolm.

“What?” he turned to face the group.

“That your dad is a monster?”

 _We’re the same_. Police sirens echoed in Malcolm’s ear.

Malcolm frowned. “What?” he asked again.

“Are you stupid?” an older kid cut in. “Your dad was a monster, and so is your mom. My mom said your mom knew everything and probably helped kill those poor people.”

“Don’t say that,” Malcolm snapped back.

“Or else what? You gonna kill me?” came the reply.

Malcolm felt his chest constrict.

“And the winner of this year’s drawing is…!” the voice of the man on stage rang out in that moment, and Malcolm and the kids turned to see the announcer unfold the slip of paper. The man frowned.

A woman standing next to the man peered over his shoulder at the paper and frowned as well.

_“Whitly.”_

The name was forced out as if the word pained them to say it out loud.

Every head in the room turned towards Malcolm’s mother. Malcolm noticed her carefully crafted mask of emotion had fallen away. She looked pale.

“Jessica,” the man recovered slightly and beckoned her up to the stage. “Come on up.”

She gave a small smile. “Are you sure?”

He didn’t respond. Her smile disappeared and she began to make her way to the stage.

_“Her? Of all people?”_

_“I can’t believe it”_

The crowd’s disapproval echoed around the ballroom.

“Of course that monster won. She probably rigged it or threatened their lives,” a kid near Malcolm scoffed.

Malcolm rounded on him, ready to defend his mother when suddenly he felt a sting on his neck.

Another kid had grabbed a stone from the decorative vases and chucked it at him. Surprised, he cried out as another stone struck his arm. “Stop!” he shouted, ducking to avoid the pelting stones.

“Malcolm?” his mother was just starting to climb the stairs to the stage.

Other parents also took notice and began to call out to their children. Most of the other kids had grabbed their own stones and were full on attacking Malcolm now. He tried to take cover behind a chair.

“Leave him be!” his mother yelled over the crowd.

Malcolm was now in a ball on the floor, sobbing and trying to protect himself.

He felt his mother’s arms around him. He looked up at her and noticed her eyes had tears in them, too.

“Monster! Monster!” the unruly children shouted, continuing their onslaught.

Then everything seemed to go still when a stone stuck Jessica smack in the middle of her forehead. Her shriek chilled Malcolm to his core.

She reached up to touch her face, and when she pulled her hand away, blood could be seen trickling down her nose.

The room went as silent as a tomb. The rest of the night was a blur. Malcolm vaguely remembered him and his mother being ushered out of the venue.

What would be forever clear in his mind, right alongside his father’s arrest, was his mother’s face, covered in blood while a chorus of voices called her a monster.

— ◌◯◌ —

With new information from the doctor, Gil steps out of Bright's hospital room to call Edrisa. As much as he doesn't want to deal with her thousand questions about Bright's condition, she's the person in the best position to explain what he learned might mean and how it might apply to their case.

"Gil!" Edrisa answers with a gigawatt more energy than he feels. "How's Bright doing? Is he awake? That's why you're calling me, right? It's time to come down and see him — "

"No, Edrisa," he cuts her off a bit harsher than he intends. "No change. I'm calling about the case. They found scopolamine in Bright's system."

"Predatory drugs? She would have eaten, drank, or otherwise ingested that somehow."

"You found a wine glass beside the tub," Gil reminds her.

"Bright didn't eat or drink anything on scene — that's a huge no-no."

Which Gil remembers she's violated before. "He could have touched his mouth. Scratched his nose."

"He would have had gloves on. It's not likely he would have done that."

Gil knows firsthand Bright’s not exactly the best at following procedure to the letter. He can't rule it out. "Can they rush testing for that substance?"

"Yes, but then you could be missing the full picture. It could be that _and_ something else."

He’s not particularly interested in an answer that isn’t a full yes, but his experience tells him to listen and seek her opinion. "Do you have an alternative idea?"

"No." There's a pause. "Scopolamine metabolizes quickly. She would've ingested it in the past day if it's in her system."

"Bright wasn't separated from us for _that_ long. And you — " He stops, leaving off _saw him_ as it's not something any of them need to be re-prompted with. "Well, it packed a punch."

"It's an anticholinergic, a hallucinogenic, alters consciousness. More commonly see it in assault cases."

"Was she assaulted?" Gil asks, as that hadn't come up in any of the team's past conversations.

"No visual indication of that upon examination."

But she was found in a bathtub. There wasn't any forced entry into the house, but someone could have had a key, someone could have —

"Can I come see him?" Edrisa asks, interrupting his train of thought.

"Edrisa — "

"I won't get in the way, I _promise_. He just needs sufficient auditory stimulation and —"

" _Edrisa_ — " he says a little firmer, attempting to get through to her.

"What?"

"Lowkey, _please_. Only one of us can be in there at a time, and it's quiet." They've been cheating the requirement, both he and Jessica sitting with the kid, but he's not telling her that.

"I know how the ICU works, Gil. I'm the one with the doctorate, remember."

Edrisa rambles on about something else that Gil doesn't entirely follow, then ends the call. He scratches his goatee when the line goes silent, not entirely sure what he's gotten himself into. He communicated the necessary information on the case, but what kind of spectacle would happen when she arrived at the hospital?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Head back to the [Bookshelf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588570#workskin) to pick another book. :)


End file.
